


Unexpected Rough Patch In The Ride

by helens78, Luzula (Luzula_podfic)



Category: Gunless (2010)
Genre: Community: pod-together, First Time, M/M, POV First Person, POV Outsider, Podfic, Podfic Available, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-06
Updated: 2011-07-06
Packaged: 2017-10-21 02:42:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/219999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luzula_podfic/pseuds/Luzula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A stagecoach driver meets up with the Montana Kid, who's been hired to ride shotgun in order to escort an important client.  The night before the driver and the Kid head off, the Kid makes a new acquaintance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected Rough Patch In The Ride

**Author's Note:**

> This work was created for the [](http://pod-together.dreamwidth.org/profile)[](http://pod-together.dreamwidth.org/)**pod_together** challenge, creating a work that was meant, from the beginning, to be experienced as podfic. We hope you'll download the podfic, which tells the story much better than plain text can, but the text is included as an aid to listeners who find it easier to follow podfic when they have visual words as well (as well as any fen out there for whom, for whatever reason, podfic isn't an option). :)
> 
> Please right-click and select "save" to download: [MP3 version](http://helensfic.net/podfic/wp-content/uploads/helens78-luzula_unexpected-rough-patch-in-the-ride.mp3)  
> (with cover)  
> Please right-click and select "save" to download: [M4B version](http://pod-together.parakaproductions.com/2011podfic/Gunless-Unexpected%20Rough%20Patch%20in%20the%20Ride%20by%20helens78%20and%20luzula.mp3)

**Streaming version: Unexpected Rough Patch In The Ride, by luzula and helens78**

* * *

* * *

By the time the trip from Heartwood Springs to Clayton came around, I'd been driving stage for a good six years. I'd seen a lot of people come and go -- high rollers out to make a fortune at some saloon or other, girls just blossoming into women who didn't realize the west was no place to find a husband, families out to visit. Even some families out to stay, whether they found silver or gold or nothing but scrub. Now and then I'd have a delivery or a person that needed special care, and instead of the usual guy riding shotgun, they'd bring in somebody with either a little bit of a reputation or a steady hand and a lot of nerve.

When the kid in the black hat came up to me with his hands on his hips and said "I'm the Montana Kid," I figured he was both. Fine by me as long as I didn't get shot.

"Parker. Sam Parker." I stood up and shook his hand. "We're meeting up with our guy at noon tomorrow. Have a drink if you want, get some sleep. Long as you're ready to go by half past eleven, doesn't matter none what you do in the meantime."

"Half past eleven." He nodded. Another man might've brought out a pocket watch; the only thing I saw tucked into his pocket was a knife, which implied to me that there was no watch to be found. Hopefully he wasn't just going to guess at the time. Oh, well; it wouldn't be the first time I'd dragged somebody out of bed in order to do their damn job. And what the hell -- he could always end up surprising me. "I'm upstairs, end of the hall," he said. "In case you need anything."

His hand shifted to his hip, so the meaning was clear: _in case there's trouble_. I shook my head. "Won't need you until tomorrow," I said. It was a big town, but not too rowdy. There was actual law here, as opposed to our destination. "Have a drink or a game or whatever it is you want to do. I'll be around." _Get it out of your system_ , I wanted to say, but gun hands are kind of touchy about their vices, and this one seemed calm enough right now. I wanted to keep him that way.

So off he went to the bar, and before long I found myself with a lapful of one of Rosie's girls, all pretty and blonde and nice-smelling, and that occupied me for a few drinks of my own, I don't mind saying. I kept half an eye on the Kid while Greta and me got friendly, because calm or not, the last thing I needed was to have my gun hand get thrown in jail the night before we were supposed to leave for Clayton.

A few of Rosie's girls made eyes at him, and he bought drinks for each of them, polite-like. But not one of them got more attention than that; after they'd had their drink, he'd toast them with that first whiskey he was still drinking, and he'd nod, and they'd smile sweet and go on about their business with someone else. Bar was full of men looking for a little company; no need to waste time on someone who wasn't buying.

Greta slid her hand onto my shoulder and pressed her lips to my cheek. "Are you all finished down here?" she asked. "Or do you need to keep an eye on that one all night long?"

I turned to her and smiled. "Not all night."

"Good thing. I think I've got what you need tonight, not him." She glanced back over. "Though it wouldn't surprise me none if the opposite ain't true."

I blinked and followed her gaze; the Kid was still at the bar, still leaning on it and looking down at his whiskey, still had one boot up on the rail, but now he'd picked up somebody he wasn't sending off with a drink and a salute.

And from the way that other guy was smiling -- not at him, but straight forward, both of them careful not to be looking right at each other -- I thought maybe Greta had a point. I'd seen some of that out here, the occasional bent gunslinger, which made no difference to me so long as they could _shoot_ straight. But it got them into trouble sometimes, some towns, and if Greta could see it, likely she wasn't alone.

There was a hum in the air between them, something that passed as they finished their first drinks and started in on their second. The new guy looked around the room and tapped the Kid on the arm, nodding toward an empty table. He pulled a deck of cards out of his waistcoat pocket, and smiled, nice and broad. The Kid didn't miss a second of that smile; his eyes might have narrowed a little, but he was watching the new guy's mouth.

"You know him?" I asked Greta. "Is he a regular?"

"No." She kissed my cheek again, and her fingers danced over my neck, back and forth across the top of my collar. "Came into town just two days back. Hasn't spent a night with any of the girls, though it looks like he's got the money to spend on it."

"What's his name?"

"Bob, maybe. Bill. Ben."

He looked like a Ben to me. I could believe Ben. And as Ben led the Kid off to that empty table off to the side of the room, the Kid took a seat against the wall and Ben sat down next to him, so he wouldn't have his back to more people than he needed to. I wondered where Ben had come from, and where he was going. I wondered if he was one of those crazies who liked to get a bent guy alone and then prey on him. Mostly I figured the Montana Kid could take care of himself -- he'd better be able to take care of himself, or he wouldn't be much good to me on the stage over the next few days -- but I didn't want to let it go so soon. Not just yet, not until I had a bead on whether my gun hand was going to be safe overnight.

Ben shuffled his deck of cards and dealt them out, five to each. The Kid shifted and brought out some cash, nothing much, just enough to get started in a game, and Ben came out with a stack of bills not much taller. By all appearances, it looked like a no-stakes game, the kind of thing that wouldn't draw the eye of anybody who actually made a living at games of chance.

But I could see the Kid sizing up Ben as they played, and I could see Ben doing the same for the Kid. After a while, Ben took off his hat, neatly-combed blond hair slicked down, and the Kid did the same -- though his shock of long dark hair was anything but neat. Ben must have liked what he saw, though, because he kept on looking. The game was secondary to what they were really up to down here. It was a man's game of foreplay, each of them deciding if the other was worth the risk.

By the time the game was done, not much money had exchanged hands. The Kid was up maybe a dollar. But they stood up, together, and the Kid murmured something in Ben's ear. Ben nodded, glanced around the room, and headed upstairs without a word. The Kid headed back for the bar.

"Well," Greta said, "show's over, honey. Want to come with me?"

"Can't pay for the whole night," I said. "But I could take a whirl or two."

She grinned. "Fine by me. Come on."

It'd be impolite to talk much about what went on between us, save to say that she made a slow evening pass a lot faster, and by the time I'd done my business and she'd done hers, we were both better off for it. She stood at her door in her little robe, one side slipping down over her shoulder, and told me to come right back if I changed my mind about the money in my pocket. I can't say I wasn't tempted.

But I had a room of my own, already paid for, and I headed out of the ladies' hallway, standing up on the back balcony for a while, looking up at the night sky and thinking it was a fine evening to be in Heartwood Springs.

The windows behind me were all rooms at the saloon, everybody with a view if they wanted. Some had the curtains drawn. Most were open, at least a little, to let in the breeze.

The one on the end was open all the way, and there were sounds coming from it that most people wouldn't have heard over the noise in the saloon. They were being careful about it; they weren't calling out each other's names at the top of their lungs or anything foolish like that.

But I knew already who the room at the end of the hall belonged to. I could hear that soft growl, the one I'd first heard when the Montana Kid came up to me and introduced himself. Now there was more than a growl, though. Now there was a stutter in that voice that spoke of pleasure he'd been chasing way too long before catching up with it tonight.

Greta's memory had been pretty good for names, and my guess had been dead on the money. I could hear that low growl saying " _Ben_ ", and I could hear Ben moaning, just a little, just a hint of their voices over the breeze out here and the music downstairs.

I probably could've seen it if I'd turned around. The window was open, the night was clear, the moon was out. I hadn't looked to see if they'd left a lamp going, but it wouldn't surprise me if they had.

But Ben's hitched breath and whispered words told me they were nearing the conclusion, and I came around to the other side of the saloon, heading inside to my room and leaving them to it.

* * *

I slept like a log that night. Between a few drinks, Greta's hospitality, and the knowledge that we'd have to be on our way and alert, I took to my bed and didn't move from it until the sun was all the way up. My pocketwatch said it was quarter to eleven, so I had time to get up and get dressed and maybe even have some breakfast, if they were serving it.

Which they were, so I had a plate of eggs and some biscuits and gravy, and I was more than set to go. I settled up the bill for the Kid's room, and both our tabs from the night before, and I went upstairs to find my gun hand.

At the end of the hall, the room was quiet. Ben had probably gone back to wherever he'd come from, leaving the Kid on his own. If there'd been trouble, I would've heard it -- I hoped. From the way I'd slept, maybe not.

But after I knocked, the door swung open. And it turned out I was wrong about Ben, because he was standing right there, halfway to being dressed, still missing his overshirt and his waistcoat and his jacket. His hat was propped up on one of the bedposts. I could see the Kid checking his guns in the background, over by the window. He was fully dressed, boots on, hat on his head.

"Sorry to interrupt," I said. "Got to be heading out."

"I figured," Ben said. "Sean told me he had an appointment." He held out a hand. "Ben Cutter. Are you Sam Parker?"

The Kid -- Sean? -- well, his head snapped up, and he narrowed his eyes at Ben's back, which was probably the least friendly look Ben had gotten from him since the two of them joined up down at the bar the previous night.

But what could I say? No? "That's me." And now I knew who he was, too. "Guess we'll be your ride into Clayton."

Something sly played around Ben's mouth, and he smiled at me and nodded. "Guess so. I'm sure they'd appreciate me getting there as soon as I can."

"So I hear. Got some trouble down there." And the officials down in Clayton had paid extra to have a good gun hand on this stage, so the way I figured it, they were pretty desperate for this man to arrive in one piece. I hoped that was still a likely outcome, considering the way the Kid was staring holes in the back of Ben's head. "You bounty hunting or just going in to help clean up the mess?"

"Just cleaning up the mess this time. Haven't been out to look for anybody in a while, but you never know." The look in his eyes made me a little bit uneasy; there wouldn't be much I could do about it if he wanted to make trouble with the Kid. "You never know who you're going to run into out here."

"That's for damned sure," the Kid cut in. He shouldered past Ben and past me, and stepped out into the hallway. "I'll be downstairs, when the two of you are ready."

Ben's eyes followed after the Kid long past the time we lost sight of him. I raised an eyebrow at Ben. "Are we going to have a problem?"

"Nope." Ben shook his head. "There's only a twenty-five dollar reward for him. I got more than that out of him last night."

This wasn't going to be a rough ride the way I'd expected it to be; it was going to be a whole other thing. But then, the Kid was probably downstairs thinking exactly that.

I nodded at Ben. "Get dressed and come on down. I'll be back with the stage in a few minutes."

"Sure. Won't take me long."

I double-timed it to the livery, where I got the horses hitched up and had the wagon brought around. I hoped I was fast enough to get back before there was any trouble.

_-end-_


End file.
